


Scars Old and New

by jimmytiberius



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Angst, Brianna Randall Fraser Mackenzie (mentioned), Canon-Typical Point of View Shifts, Friendship, Gen, Homophobic Language, Missing/Inserted Scene, Non-Graphic Discussion of Past Sexual Assault, Reconciliation, William Ransom (mentioned), Written in My Own Heart's Blood, Yuletide 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmytiberius/pseuds/jimmytiberius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In everything that happened on the eve of war, explanations and apologies went unsaid between Jamie and Lord John. Slight AU: Claire pushes Jamie to talk to John and clear the air before they have to fight on opposite sides once more. That means discussing feelings and old demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars Old and New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dani/gifts).



> NOTE: As stated in the tags, this fic contains non-graphic conversations about Black Jack Randall raping Jamie Fraser. Issues of consent are a major topic between the characters here, although no sexual scenarios are depicted.
> 
> Happy Yuletide, Dani! I hope this fits with your headcanon for a Jamie and John reconciliation. You said in your letter that you'd like Claire and Brianna involved if possible - so Claire is there, but with several hundred years between them at this point in the books, I couldn't think of a way to work Bree in except as a mentioned character. Hope that's okay! This more or less fits into _Written In my Own Heart's Blood_ between "An Alternate Use for a Penis Syringe" and "Three Hundred and One". Please let me know if I got any details wrong - there's so much to keep track of in the Outlander books! Happy holidays and enjoy.

I found Jamie not far off, apparently inspecting Clarence the mule to ensure he hadn’t been damaged in the process of being stolen and returned in such dramatic fashion. I was fairly sure it would take more than just an adventure to hurt Clarence. Jamie seemed to have come to the same conclusion, patting the animal on the neck and looking up at my approach.

“I’ve applied honey to John’s eye, he should be feeling rather a lot better. If you care.” Jamie snorted in response. I sighed. “He’s lucky, you know. You could have blinded him in that eye permanently.”

“Serve him right,” Jamie said blandly. I wondered if he really felt that way, or if he simply felt obliged to continue the charade for the sake of his ego.

“You should talk to him.”

Jamie snorted again. “I have. That’s what caused all the stramash in the first place.”

“No, that was you hitting him.” I shook my head and reached out to take Jamie’s hand in my own. “Bloody men. You can never just talk things out, can you?”

“I dinna ken what you think there is to talk out, Sassenach.” Jamie was beginning to look irritated. “I’m verra grateful to him for looking after you when I couldna be there, and he knows it.” He pulled his hand away from me. “But I’m none so grateful for the rest of it. And he knows that too.”

“And so do I,” I snapped. “But – well, look, Jamie, we’re at war. Do you really want to carry on without making amends?”

“Making amends? I dinna owe the man anything!” Jamie glowered down at me.

“Oh, right. I forgot.” If Jamie was going to play dumb, I would have to play dirty. Perhaps this wasn’t the time, with the threat of battle lurking at any moment, but that knowledge only strengthened my resolve. “You owe him nothing. The man who saved me from arrest as a spy. Who once spent a considerable length of time engaged to your daughter to protect her from scandal. Who _raised your son_. That’s right,” I snapped. “You owe him nothing. And if he dies tomorrow, you certainly won’t regret that your last words for him were in anger.”

Jamie was looking more and more discomfited by the moment. His jaw was still set stubbornly, but I knew he was considering my point, and the problem that came with it: if he were truly to set things right with John, he would have to explain his reaction, and that meant discussing Wentworth. I hated putting him through that, wouldn’t force him if he truly refused. But I knew after all this time he could trust John. Perhaps talking about it to the man would actually help. Jamie would carry the scars, physical and otherwise, of that ordeal forever. In light of what had happened – what John had told Jamie about our night together – those demons had resurfaced. But I thought, if anyone would understand, it would be John. He had his own demons.

“I ought to just turn him over to Washington,” Jamie said gruffly. “Let the wee pervert be hanged as a spy.”

I rolled my eyes. “You won’t.”

“Aye, you’re right, I won’t. But he’s made himself a right nuisance wi’ this surrender. That ought to make us a bit more even, no?” The sides of Jamie’s mouth poked upward in a halfhearted smile.

I suppressed one myself, knowing he had allowed himself to be convinced, he just wasn’t ready to say so yet. But I sobered quickly, thinking about exactly what I was asking Jamie to do. “You needn’t tell him anything in detail,” I said quietly. “But after all this time – the way you act around him. The way you reacted to what he said. If you truly want to clear the air, you will need to tell him something.”

Jamie made a small noise in his throat. “I know.”

“What will you tell him?”

“I havena decided yet.” He drew himself up straight and shook his hair out of his eyes. “But you’re right, Sassenach, there isna much time, and plenty may happen yet. I’d best get this out of the way.”

 

~

 

John lay on his back on the cot, eyes closed. The damnable injured eye did feel much better, although the thought of having honey poured into his eyeball was beyond strange. Still, he was about as accustomed now to Claire’s strange but effective forms of doctoring as anyone could be, and all things considered, honey was relatively inert for her. As long as his eye didn’t attract bees, he would be all right.

The sound of someone clearing their throat a foot or so away started him out of his thoughts. John opened his good eye, half expecting to see Percy again, cursing himself for not hearing anyone enter the tent. But it wasn’t Percy standing there.

“Jamie,” John said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Er – have you come to turn me over to Washington?”

“No, though I’d verra much like to.” Jamie sat down on the stool by the cot. “Claire has bullied me into coming and speaking wi’ you,” he said succinctly. “And so I am. Here. Speaking wi’ you.”

“Well,” said John faintly. “That’s nice. What about?”

Jamie looked slightly embarrassed. “How’s your eye?”

“Sticky. But it’ll do.” John sat up slowly, hoping the movement wouldn’t bring nausea. He was, on the whole, feeling much better, but having one’s eyeball manhandled was never all that reassuring to the system. “No thanks to you, but many thanks to Mrs. Fraser.” He placed some emphasis on the name.

“She told me more about how the two o’ you ended up marrit,” Jamie said quietly.

“It was rather a tight situation.” And John had been the one to rescue Claire from it, but that wasn’t worth emphasizing. John wasn’t sure what had brought this uneasy peace about between them, but he didn’t want to push. Jamie had come to him, after all.

“She has a knack for those.” Jamie smiled wryly. “It was to save her from a summat similar one that I married her myself, ye ken.”

“I’ve heard the story.” John had, and it was a good one, although come to think of it, it wasn’t the story he was curious about at this particular moment. “Look here – how is it that you come to be alive? I’m sure there’s some explanation, but whatever it is, I haven’t heard it yet.”

“We were meant to sail on one ship, the captain sailed without us, we found another an’ we came over to Virginia.” Jamie shrugged, as if to dismiss the whole endeavor as a minor inconvenience. “We hadna heard about the first ship’s sinking until we made our way up to Philadelphia and found ye all thought we were dead.”

“That – is rather more straightforward an explanation than I had expected, actually,” John admitted with a smile. “I thought there might be pirate battles involved, or perhaps some other feats of daring. Something more suited for a dramatic return from the dead.”

“Well, there was a bit more to it than that.” Jamie chuckled. “But that’s the long and short of it, anyway.”

Jamie sat still for a moment, drumming his fingers against his thigh. He seemed deeply uncomfortable, and John wondered why. Surely he wasn’t still so angry that being in John’s mere presence made him unable to sit calmly? But no, if that were it not even his wife would have been able to compel him to come here, plainly for the purpose of setting things right.

“There is something I would tell you,” Jamie began abruptly, “regarding… my reaction.”

“Your reaction?”

“To what ye said. In the woods, before.” Jamie was, for once, having trouble looking John in the eye.

“I told you I had lain with your wife,” John said wryly. “I wouldn’t have thought your reaction to that required much explanation.”

“Aye, well. It wasna only that, was it?”

John thought back on the conversation, the particulars of which were a blur. “I told you. You hit me. What nuance of that have I forgotten?”

“I asked ye why.” Jamie’s back was straight, shoulders stiff, and he looked as though he would like to be anywhere but here. “And ye said…”

“We were both fucking you,” John finished, in a strangled voice. His… attraction, his feelings, for Jamie had never been a secret. But that had crossed a line, and he had all but forgotten about it in the pain and confusion that had followed. “I cannot tell you it was anything but the truth. But…” He sounded oddly formal to his own ear, but he needed to find some distance here, to look at the situation rationally. It hadn’t been until he’d said that that Jamie had hit him. “But that cannot have been… comfortable for you to hear.”

“Comfortable?” Jamie snorted. “None o’ this is _comfortable_. But there’s more to it than that. And God help me, I think it’s time for me to tell ye about it.”

The tent was dim, and though the sounds of people and animals outside were hardly muffled, John didn’t hear them at all. As Jamie spoke, there was nothing but the darkness of the tent and the horror of the story he told. John knew he was leaving out most of the details, but the even the simplest version of the story of what Jack Randall had done to Jamie made John’s gorge rise. He could guess at the specifics all too well.

John had suspected for some time that someone, some man, had assaulted Jamie indecently, perhaps taken him against his will – for all that the idea of anyone forcing Jamie Fraser physically seemed impossible. But the truth of how Randall had tortured and raped him went far beyond anything John could have imagined.

When Jamie finally finished, he bowed his head for a moment. John suppressed the urge to stand and embrace him, to hold him as if that would help rather than make everything worse. Jamie looked exhausted, and John felt suddenly guilty – his own actions had forced Jamie to relive this. But it was Claire who had pushed Jamie to tell him, or so it seemed, and John clung to that. She knew Jamie the best. She would never have pushed him if she thought it would be too much of an ordeal to tell the story.

John’s chest was choked, with fury or with horror or with tenderness, he could not be sure. He tried to force out words, and then found he had none. “Jamie – I don’t know what to say.”

Jamie looked up and met John’s eyes at last. “Ye dinna have to say anything. But now ye know – there was more to it than just Claire. Although,” he added with a twist of his lips, “dinna think I’ve forgotten that.”

“I can’t take it back,” John said quietly. “And I couldn’t have lied to you about it. But I am sorry. I never thought…”

“Ye never thought ye’d see me again,” Jamie finished with a wry look. “I was dead. And I do understand that. But it’s all more complicated than that, ye ken.”

“I’m surprised you’re speaking to me, to be honest.” John shifted on the cot, moving slightly away from Jamie. “It must be difficult for you to be near me.” And that really didn’t begin to cover it, but Jesus, what was there to say? John wanted desperately to find some words to make this right, but he didn’t even know where to begin.

“Well, you… weren’t to know.” Jamie smiled sardonically. “And it isna really that ye did me wrong, is it? But I canna help but take it so.” He shifted on the stool. “It’s like a scar, aye? When… aught like this has happened to ye, long past. Or that’s how it is for me.” Although he had spoken plainly while he told the story, he now seemed unable to name the crime. John certainly couldn’t blame him. “And when it’s torn open again, ye canna do anything but wait for it to heal, as much as it ever does.”

John swallowed hard, hoping he could keep his voice from shaking. “What makes it heal?”

“Time helps. And Claire – she kens well enough how it is. And distraction, forbye. Which – ” the sardonic smile was back – “it seems your army is like to give us any moment now.”

“Yes, well.” Ordinarily John would offer some quip in response, but under the circumstances, that hardly seemed appropriate. He paused, trying to make sense of his swirling emotions. “Jamie… is there anything I can do? Anything at all.”

“I would ask ye to keep your distance, but that seems a mite difficult just now, seeing as you are my prisoner.” Jamie sighed. “Christ, John, did ye have to go and do that?”

“It seemed my best bet of survival,” John said ruefully. “I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I rather preferred it to hanging.”

“Aye, and I canna blame ye for that. But it does make ye rather a thorn in my side.” Jamie shook his head and stood, smoothing his coat. “There’s much we still ought to discuss, not least the problem of William. But that’ll have to keep, I’m afraid.”

“William,” John groaned, reaching up to rub at his eye. His son – _their_ son, truly – was off somewhere, likely enough continuing to cause dramatics but hopefully staying out of serious trouble. “Why did he have to inherit your temper?”

“It rather runs in the family, I’m afraid.” Jamie paused, then added, “I saw him when I was headed back into Philadelphia, a week or so past. He seemed… furious wi’ me, but well enough.”

“That’s plenty of time for him to have found a way to get into trouble,” John replied with chagrin. “But thank you. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Aye. We’ll try to put things right with him when we may. For now, though…” Jamie seemed to consider John for a moment. “I’ve got plenty o’ more pressing problems, not least o’ them you.” He shook his head. “Bloody wee man, ye have made things difficult for me.”

“And you haven’t made things difficult for me?” John asked frankly, gesturing toward his eye, his tattered clothing, all of it. “I wouldn’t be in this mess at all if it weren’t for you.”

“That’s true.” Jamie laughed suddenly, and the sound started John, but it was a relief in a way. To know that Jamie could laugh, after all they had talked about. After all he had been through. “We’re a sorry lot.”

“That we are.”

“And I’d best be off. I trust you wilna suddenly expire or lose an eyeball or the like now that Claire’s seen to ye.” John laughed and shook his head as Jamie took several steps toward the exit of the tent. He turned back when he reached it, and his face was serious. “Look after yourself, aye?”

“I shall certainly do my best.” He opened his mouth to tell Jamie to be careful, or perhaps to thank him for his trust, but the man was already gone, the tent flap falling into place behind him.

 

~

 

I watched Jamie leave the tent, looking unhappy but not enraged, and breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever had passed between them, it had gone at least reasonably well.

There was only one way to find out that didn’t involve confronting my husband himself, who likely thought I had done enough meddling for one day. So I ducked into the tent to find John lying back on the cot, his good eye open and his expression troubled.

“How did it go?” I asked sympathetically. He turned his head, but didn’t sit up.

“Well, it didn’t come to blows.”

“That’s good. I didn’t much fancy putting your eye back in its place a second time.” That drew a chuckle, at least. I bent over him on the pretext of checking his bandage, but mostly because I wanted the excuse to study his expression further. “Did you and Jamie… er… set things to right between you?” I asked delicately, drawing back.

“As right as they can be.” John sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s any use in talking around it with you.”

“None whatsoever,” I answered promptly, stepping away and rifling through my medicine chest, in part to spare John from feeling as though I were scrutinizing his reactions. I would need to find salt from somewhere to replenish my stocks of saline…

“He told me… rather as much as he could. And I apologized, as well as I could, for saying what I’d said.” John looked as though the process had been exhausting, which it probably had been. I doubted Jamie had gone into many of the particulars, but the story of what Randall had done to him was disturbing, to say the least. And I’d had many years to try to learn to live with it, while John had only just heard it and was likely quite shaken.

He turned to look at me directly. “I doubt if matters will be easy between us for some time. And I cannot blame him. But it’s a start.”

“It’s a start,” I repeated. And he was right. Jamie wouldn’t be able to let go of this easily – it cut too close. It would likely be a long time before he could speak to John or even look at him without it causing him anger and pain. But if, God willing, they had the time to repair their friendship, I had faith that they would be able to. And if they didn’t have the time – though I prayed fervently that the war would not take that away from them – if they didn’t, at least they had had the chance to speak to each other honestly.

John saw my face and smiled gently. “Have faith, my dear.”

I pushed my hair out of my eyes and looked back at him for a long moment. “I’ll try.”

“So will I.”


End file.
